


Penelope Unbound

by sassy_curmudgeon



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: BAMF Penelope, F/M, Heavy Angst, Historical, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, No beta we die like Edmund, Regency Romance, The Author Regrets Nothing, Though I may regret this tomorrow, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:06:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29813694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_curmudgeon/pseuds/sassy_curmudgeon
Summary: Penelope’s heartaches and trials for your reading pleasure. This is a bit of a darker fic but sunshine is the endgame. Penelope must weather scandal and devastation and finds solace in her own strength and her best friend Eloise. What could a young lady of 'le bon ton' do when faced with so much grief? Fight back of course.
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington
Comments: 30
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I am fudging with the timeline quite a bit, and some aspects are bookverse and others based on the Netflix series but overall it’s a total canon divergence and making it up as I go. I actually haven’t watched the series much lately and it’s been ages since I read the books, so keep that in mind. This gets pretty dark and is a character exploration of one Penelope Featherington and those closest to her.

_“The heart will break, but broken live on.” Lord Byron_

_“Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful.” Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s Frankenstein._

* * *

“That is quite enough, Penelope! Please retreat to your bedchamber at once.”

“I merely wish to know h-“

“At once!”

Eager to escape the situation as well as her mother’s shrill voice, Penelope made great haste of fleeing the parlor and darting up the staircase, reaching her bedchamber in record time.

Blowing a wayward strand of red hair out of her face with an irritated huff, Penelope sat on her bed gingerly then lay down with a groan. The question her mother refused to answer still floated through her mind.

_I merely wish to know how this happened and how is it possible? I have never known a woman of a certain age such as yours to find herself with child._

Earlier, Penelope’s mother and father had asked to speak to their daughters in the parlor and made it quite clear that it was a serious issue at hand.

Penelope herself had sulked a bit upon making her way to the parlor, hoping it was not another scandal or worse, bad news from the countryside pertaining to Marina and Colin who had eloped a few months before and should more than likely be spending time in Gloucestershire, where Marina was from, near the Forest of Dean. At least until the scandal of their elopement died down.

Penelope had immediately noticed that her parents looked… odd. Not unhappy, exactly, but she knew their countenances well enough to be certain that something had gravely caught them off guard.

“My darling daughters!” her mother began, brightly, “we have such… _interesting_ news.”

Penelope could see Prudence’s eyebrows lift a bit, eyes lit with curiosity. Penelope toyed with the tangerine-colored bit of lace on her dress, waiting for Mother to continue. They all watched their parents exchange meaningful glances.

“Yes?” Penelope asked tentatively after a few moments, beginning to become unnerved.

Their mother took a deep breath and smiled bracingly.

“I am with child!” she declared, the smile on her face wry.

The proclamation was met with an absolutely stunned silence. Nobody could scarce move a muscle, only stared at Lady Featherington as if stupefied.

Phillipa recovered first.

“How- what? -”

Penelope sat up straighter, eyes wide as saucers darting around to her family. She did not understand, not truly. Unless? She remembered what her mother had said one day about Marina’s condition.

“Oh! Mama!” Penelope cried, raising her hands to her mouth, “Is this what you meant pertaining to Marina’s condition? You said she was to be kept away because her condition was ‘catching’ and so… did you catch it?”

Lord Featherington sat back with a slight huff and shake of his head.

Penelope could almost hear her family’s collective thought- _why is Penelope such a fluff-brained idiot?_

That was what had triggered her mother’s temper, and most likely because she had mentioned the M Word- Marina.

Now back to the present Penelope folded her hands on her belly and trained her eyes on the patterned ceiling, considering this new development.

Her mother was in her 40s and ladies did not have children at that age, and this did nothing to help her understand the old question of how her mother and father were going to have a baby.

Penelope rose with alacrity, a plan already formulating. She would do what she always did when she was confused or required assistance. She would speak with Eloise about it. Best not take quill to parchment and fire off a letter about this unusual situation lest it fall into the wrong hands.

* * *

“But… how?” Eloise sputtered, her large grey eyes made even larger by her astonishment. They were sitting in Eloise’s bedchamber after Penelope and she has run upstairs, hastened by Penelope’s urging. Penelope had not even brought her maid with her.

“I do not know, I have learned very little, El, since we last brought it up.”

“Ah yes, the maid who was with child.”

Penelope hid her gaze from her dearest friend, the old pain again a sharp barb in her heart. In the end she had not found it in her heart to expose Marina’s secret to all of London. Colin had been so earnest in his belief that the past did not matter, that his love for Penelope’s cousin was so true and fervent. Not willing to stand in their way Penelope had maintained her silence and the two had run off to Scotland and had not been seen since. Anthony had been furious at first, Eloise had related, but had since accepted it, especially after several glowing letters from his wayward younger brother declaring his love for his young bride and the happiness of his marriage. The letters had abruptly stopped, however, and not even Eloise could figure out why.

“Yes,” Penelope chuckled, clearing her dry throat, “the maid in question.”

Eloise was already plotting her next move as usual.

“We will ask Daphne!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We will ask my sister how this might have occurred, she must know. Oh come now, Pen, do not look so worried. I cannot very well ask my mother.”

Both giggled behind their hands, titillated at the very thought.

“Has Colin written to you at all, Pen?”

Penelope shook her head, turning to gaze forlornly out the window. “No, El, neither he nor Marina have written any letters. Perhaps they are enjoying themselves too much.”

Eloise nibbled on her lip distractedly then leaned forward in confidence.

“Mother is so very worried. I overheard she and Anthony conversing—”

“You mean you had an ear pressed to the door you naughty girl.”

“—and,” Eloise refused to be distracted, “and they both are quite concerned. Anthony said he had a bad feeling about your cousin Marina, though she was a lovely person, and it was a feeling he could not quite shake. It was why he had insisted on a long engagement.”

“He seemed so happy in his letters,” Penelope offered gently, and for some reason she fought stinging tears- normally she only cried for Colin when she was alone and the rest of the world was asleep.

“Yes, Pen,” Eloise replied, “it is only that… something does not seem right. Colin would not cease speaking with us for any reason I can think of, and he had mentioned they would return to Gloucestershire after their honeymoon to meet her family.”

Penelope remembered some of the rather unkind barbs Mama had made about Marina, _that countrified little nobody whose relations must all smell of horse sweat_. Would Marina convince Colin to rusticate with her in the countryside? Until the baby was born or after?

Penelope took a shaking breath. It was better this way, she pondered, as she did not wish to see her beautiful cousin so soon, not after she had run off with Colin, the man Marina knew that Penelope loved.

_Babies. Remember why you am here._

Penelope smiled at her dearest friend.

“I will leave you to it, El,” she murmured, rising from the bed, “ask Daphne but she must maintain secrecy. As it stands now, however, there will be a new baby in the family in a few months.”

“Wait until Lady Whistledown finds out!”

Penelope gave a wry little smile at that.

* * *

_Dearest Eloise,_

_My mother has been complaining of many aches and pains and stays in bed a great deal of time. Since my father is not at home much these days and Prudence and Phillipa are newly engaged it falls unto me to assist Mama. She says her head pains her so and her temper is short with the maids. Only I am allowed in her bedchamber at times and it is merely to rub her feet and apply poultrices to her forehead to ease the pain a bit. Marina had once said that raw and peeled potatoes are often used in the country._

_As such I am afraid I cannot promenade with you and Lady Bridgerton these next few days._

_Thank you for relating to me what the Duchess of Hastings explained pertaining our prior conversation a few months ago. It was most illuminating and... perhaps instructive?_

_I will write to you again no more than 5 days from today, perhaps less._

_\---_

_My dear friend Penelope,_

_While I do admit I am glad that the Season is over so I do not have to dress in these frilly looks and pretend to converse with dull-witted men, I find that I miss you so very much. I do understand of course that your mother finds herself indisposed. Have her headaches cleared themselves yet? You had written to me previously that her legs are so very swollen. Has the physician not said anything on the matter?_

_Pen, I must report that Colin has finally deigned his poor family worthy of consideration. He wrote to Anthony the other day but unfortunately his mood is quite sour and his letter was curt. He is indeed in the countryside but gave no other details and Anthony seems perplexed and worried. Not one word of Marina in the rather short missive he sent our way. Has he written to you at all?_

_My dearest friend, please come visit us soon. I know you do right by your mother by tending to her but some fresh air and a few moments away from your home will do you wonders, I am sure of it. We all miss you, Pen._

* * *

Penelope had taken a page out of Eloise’s book and had her ear pressed to the door leading to her father’s study where he and Mama were currently deep in conversation. The fact that Mama had risen from her bed to meet with Papa in private was just a bit worrying- who could fault her for wanting to know what was so urgent?

She craned her neck around to make sure the halls were deserted and then leaned closer.

“—five hundred pounds. Five! My lord, this cannot continue. I pray you will have consideration not only for myself but for your own children. For your three unmarried daughters and for the child I am now carrying.”

“Cease your worries or at least your prattling. That debt is a mere trifle. It will be repaid within a fortnight and there will be nothing else said on the matter.”

“Husband, this cannot continue. I have heard the horrid stories of entire manors and estates being gambled away, of families being left penniless.”

Lord Featherington grunted, and Penelope could hear the rustle of the newspaper he was reading.

“Archibald, I insist you give me your word that you will temper this behavior.” Lady Featherington’s voice was sharp now and as brittle as shards of broken glass.

Penelope’s brow furrowed, not quite understanding. The family had debts? Her father… gambled? Did not all the gentlemen of the ton gamble a bit for sport of make bets in the betting books?

Her father sighed and his words were more measured.

“My lady, I would never dream of leaving my own family in dire straits. Please do not trouble yourself in your delicate condition. Place your trust in me as your husband or in the very least the head of this household.”

Mama was silent for so long that Penelope thought perhaps she had fallen asleep in the armchair she no doubt occupied.

“My Lord, I am well aware of your proclivities and your… _sordid_ activities in these places of such ill-repute. Never mind my thoughts on these matters as a wife. I am a mother! I am a mother. My sole concern is and always shall remain the futures of our girls. Phillipa and Prudence are engaged, my lord. Penelope has another season to attend. If this forthcoming child is another girl, well, we have then yet another daughter to leave a dowry for. Think of your family. Think of your girls.”

Penelope felt a pang in her heart upon hearing her mother’s mounting desperation and pleads to Lord Featherington which appeared to fall on deaf ears.

Were all marriages like this?


	2. Chapter 2

The month of January was coming to a close and very soon the Season would be upon them all.

Few things had changed, Penelope thought; another year, Parliament was sitting, and lords and ladies of the ton needed to be entertained.

And how could one forget the Marriage Mart in all its primitive glory. And it _was_ primitive, Penelope thought quite sourly, for even though the ton was filled to the brim with all these wealthy and elite families and only the finest fashions that money could afford, what else was it besides devious parents flinging their daughters at every titled landowners in sight, regardless of whether or not the gentleman in question was a good man?

The only thing that Penelope could count as a blessing was that Mama had entered confinement much earlier than normal, and as such- under the lax supervision of her father- Penelope was free to pick her own gowns and colors and trinkets.

 _No more yellow and tangerine!_ She thought with glee, rubbing her hands together, as she pressed her forehead to the glass pane, admiring the clear skies outside.

Penelope had not ventured outside much of late, as her mother had entered confinement in her sixth month of pregnancy and had all but usurped all of Penelope’s time. Not that Penelope had been exceedingly popular or engaged in many social calls, especially with the Bridgertons at their country estate and therefore without dear Eloise.

Soon, however, the Season would begin anew and Penelope hoped to spend more time with the Bridgertons who would soon return to London as well as attend galas and events when she was not with Mama.

Looking up at the blue sky above, a rarity in London, Penelope smiled and hoped.

* * *

“Penelope!” Lady Bridgerton smiled widely, teeth gleaming in the natural sun-lit drawing room. She was lovely as always, hair coiffed and styled with pearls.

Penelope grinned and dipped into a curtsy.

“Lady Bridgerton, I hope you are well. Thank you for inviting me for high tea. Is Eloise upstairs?”

The Bridgerton family matriarch hugged Penelope warmly, and Penelope took a moment to wrap her arms around the older lady and sink a bit into her embrace. She had always known she liked physical affection, something lacking in her own family, and the warmth and hugs of the Bridgertons pleased her and even bolstered her spirits at times.

“No Penelope, Eloise is visiting Daphne so I thought I would have tea with you, my dear.”

Penelope frowned delicately but made no comment. Now that she thought of it, Lady Bridgerton had indeed made no comment about Eloise in her note that was handed to her by a footman yesterday afternoon.

Penelope adjusted her skirts and made a motion to sit.

“Let me look at you a bit more, dear,” Violet Bridgerton urged her, the fine lines at her eyes crinkling, “I do not believe I have ever seen you in this color.”

Penelope blushed warmly, feeling pleased but also anxious, knowing how important Lady Bridgerton’s opinion always was to her.

Feeling cheeky, Penelope fluffed her skirts and twirled, then “swished” as her mother always demanded.

Violet laughed, clapping her hands.

“Lovely, my dear. I have never seen you in emerald green. You look beautiful. I daresay you made the visit to the modiste on your own?”

Penelope nodded happily, sitting herself into the chair and trying not to preen. It wasn’t in her nature but alas, she did feel somewhat pretty. It was not even the color that most excited her but that the modiste had all but demanded to cut and style the dress in a more flattering shape for her young client.

As such she ordered a few dresses in colors she and the modiste deemed to better suit Penelope, away from those garish yellows and oranges her mother preferred. Navy blue, emerald green, soft powder, even a more daring red that Madame Allard assured Penelope would combine well with her own red locks. She also had pretty spencer jackets made.

Raising her porcelain cup Penelope took a polite sip and studied Lady Bridgerton- the lady looked in fine form and fit as a fiddle, but did she imagine seeing dark circles under her eyes? Penelope was too polite to make a comment on anyone’s appearance and therefore lowered her eyes demurely, commenting on the fine china, the weather, Lady Bridgerton’s own lovely lilac dress that complimented her darker chestnut hair so very well.

Penelope, however, was rather intuitive. She had to be, as Lady Whistledown. Oh no, not always, of course. She could be quite blinded to matters of the heart. But Penelope, wallflower and shy as she was, had long ago noticed that so much could be said in _silences_. In the spaces between words, in what was unsaid. Therefore she had an inkling, perhaps, that Lady Bridgerton has not only wanted Penelope over for tea, especially since she chose the invite on a day that she knew her daughter Eloise would not be home.

After a few more minutes of tea, scones, and polite topics, Violet cleared her throat and leaned forward.

“Penelope, I would like you to know that I have long regarded you as almost a daughter. I consider you to be a member of my family. How can I not? You are so warm and lovely and kind, and such a dear friend to Eloise. Therefore, I must ask your discretion in what I am about to discuss with you.”

Penelope immediately imagined something salacious for the next edition of Lady Whistledown and instantly cursed herself mentally- she would _never_ betray the trust of someone she cared for, not for her column, not for even a king’s ransom.

“Yes, Lady Bridgerton, I promise you my discretion. How can I assist you?”

Violet Bridgerton smiled but it did not reach her lovely blue eyes which were now deep pools of pain.

“Penelope… I wonder if perhaps you know what is ailing Colin?”

The redheaded girl blinked owlishly and sat back.

“Colin? I do not-“

Violet rushed the words out in a whispered frenzy.

“Anthony refuses to travel to Gloucestershire, though I have begged him. He is firm in his decision, stating Colin has not extended an invitation. Is that not strange? I know he is a newlywed and yet it is customary for both families to meet. It has been months!”

“Lady Bridgerton,” Penelope gripped her skirts and licked her dry lips, “I do not understand how… how I can possibly..”

“And there is more, Penelope,” Violet wrung her hands together, “my son has stopped writing to us. He went from lovesick letters of devotion about his new bride and hopes for the future to cold silence. Something is wrong, I can feel it. I am a mother. Colin has always considered you to be a dear friend, I have seen you and he in the ballrooms, in the corners of this very lounge whispering and laughing at your secret jokes. You must tell me, as Marina is your cousin and Colin has always trusted you. Has something occurred?”

“He has not always trusted my judgment.” Penelope whispered the words before she could stop herself. She could feel her chest tightening and prayed for composure.

Violet was tense, alert, sharp eyes searching Penelope’s.

“What do you mean?” she urged Penelope on, “do you know something, anything? Have you heard any whisper of anything in your home, from your mother?”

Penelope took a deep, calming breath. Violet Bridgerton must have been truly desperate. It is not in the least polite to question a guest in such an unbecoming fashion. She understood her despair, however. Penelope recalled with a stab of agony in her heart how desperate and heartbroken she had herself been on the eve of Marina’s elopement with Colin. She had warred with her own heart, weeping in her bed, heartbroken. Wanting to reveal Marina’a deception but not wanting to spoil this, break Colin’s heart, ruin Marina and her own family.

She could only repeat Colin’s words to herself, that the past did not matter. She would not stand in the way of love, not when it meant destroying a relationship between Marina and Colin. Colin, whom she still loved. She would not betray the secret now.

And so, though it pained her greatly, though the tormented eyes of Lady Bridgerton, who had always treated her with such kindness, were sure to haunt her, Penelope made the decision to keep quiet.

“I am so sorry, Lady Bridgerton, I truly am. I wish I could offer some news or certainty to allay your fears and worries. I have no news as neither of them have written to me. I know nothing that can assist you. They are married now. What else is there to do?”

* * *

_Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers_

_Thursday, February 15 th, 1815_

_Dearest Readers,_

_Did anyone perchance notice how many of the young unmarried ladies of the ton were dressed in blue last night? How insipid. I vow we were standing in an ocean of nothing but blue. Not just any shade of blue, mind you. The famous and incomparable Bridgerton blue. With the two eldest Bridgerton sons still unmarried, was this a coincidence? We all know what they say about coincidences. I say, scheming mamas of the ton, show some creativity!_

_Lady Sibyl Cavendish was lovely last night in her pink and white gown. Her face, however, was pinched. Perhaps owing to the breakdown in the marriage negotiations between her father and the father of a certain titled young man with a decent fortune, who had been courting her for a fortnight now, and, I have been told, was caught in flagrante delicto in a most disreputable bawdy house. Lord Cavendish’s outraged pride won out in the end, forsaking a title for his only daughter as the disrespect was too much to bear. All fathers should protect their daughters as such! Pray do not worry, Lady C, there are plenty of fish in the sea, though please not wear that unbearably unimaginative white and black frock again- you resembled the pieces of a chess board or a little penguin, I could not decide._

_Let it be known that the authoress of this regal newspaper is nothing but magnanimous for I have earth-shattering news to report!_

_Penelope Featherington was finally seen in the arm of a gentleman who was not an unmarried Bridgerton son coerced to dance with the redhead by the dowager Lady Bridgerton. Legend has it that in every ballroom the echo of Lady Bridgerton can still be heard hissing to her sons to have pity on the frumpy little lemon slice of a girl and dance with her merely once, lest Mama pinch their ears. Although…. Miss Featherington was not looking as frumpy as she usually does, we must admit. Was it her cobalt blue gown? The much better suited cut of her dress? Not bad, Miss Featherington. Credit where credit is due, dear._

_Yrs Truly,_

_Lady Whistledown_

* * *

Penelope hurried down the cobblestone steps, tugging her dark cloak tightly around her face and making sure her head was down. Moments later she was in her hired hack and could at last breathe a sigh of relief. Her hands shook and were tense but she at made important strides in her plan to prevent disaster from befalling her family.

What occurred was several days before-

Penelope had heard shouting coming from her father’s study and crept downstairs, sticking her ear to the door though this time, she supposed, Mama heard the creak of a floorboard and wrenched the door open, red-faced, bosom heaving, one hand on her protruding belly and angry eyes now fixed on Penelope.

“You, upstairs!”

With a boldness she did not think she could possibly possess, Penelope had sidestepped her irate mother and stepped nimbly into the study, whispering to her mother to please not alert the servants of any unsavory news. It did the trick as Portia had set her trembling lips into a thin mutinous line but quieted herself.

Penelope had studied her father’s limp form, unnerved. He was sitting at his mahogany desk as usual but his face was deep in his large hands, shoulders quaking.

“Papa?” Penelope whispered, taking an uncertain step towards her father.

Portia had burst with anger anew and in her tamtrum let the truth slip- Lord Featherington had gambled away all of his three daughters' dowries. And Penelope watched, slack-jawed, as her normally unemotional father had wept in shame.

“I will try my best recover it-“

“No!” Penelope had burst out. Both her parents had stared.

“No more gambling!” Penelope begged, “Papa, do not. Lord Claymore lost all of his estates last week and took a pistol to his head.”

Lady Featherington had given a choked cry and sat on the sofa, overcome.

“Penelope, I must… I do not know how else…”

“Shhh we will think of something,” Penelope was already thinking ahead, calculating, weighing options, and formulating a plan.

“Who is we?” Portia had cried, “and who exactly asked you to think? Think, think, think, is that all you do, you silly girl?”

Penelope had said nothing, had thought things through all night in her bedchamber, and had formulated and tossed away plans for hours. She had almost told her father the whole truth. In his desperation she knew he would not reveal her identity to Mama. She had discarded the idea however because her instincts told her that her father, being an irrepressible gambler, would attempt to take ownership of her fortune “for her own good.” She could almost hear Eloise ranting in her ear about women having no autonomy in their lives.

The next morning Penelope had waited for her father to leave before she made haste to his study, rummaging through his desk drawers, looking for a two things- the letters from a distant country relative about the elderly aunt on his father’s side who had died recently, and the deed to the Fetherington’s London home.

Portia had caught Penelope on the way out, eyes glassy and red, face pale and drawn. She looked sickly and worn down.

“Penelope,” she had started to chide her, but Penelope has shut the door smartly and handed her the envelope.

“Keep this safe, Mama, somewhere Papa will not think to look.”

“What…”

“The deed to our home.”

Portia had been struck speechless for once in her life, looking up from the envelope in her clenched hand to search her youngest daughter’s eyes.

Back in the present Penelope sighed softly, looking out the hackney windows at the array of colors flying by.

It was all arranged by her banker with whom she had just met, alone in his office in a more seedier part of town. Penelope knew she was taking great risks with her reputation but this was dire. She liked and _almost_ trusted Mr. Sheffield- her reservations were not concerning any conduct of his but rather her own misgivings, at being a woman and her sex was so easier to take advantage of.

It could not be helped that she needed his assistance. They had sipped tea without sugar and discussed what to do. Penelope needed to restore her sisters’ dowries now, she could not tarry, because both her sisters were now engaged (Prudence with a Baron!) and this must be solved quickly.

Penelope had the fortune to do this, a fortune she was, for lack of a better word, sitting patiently on. She gave no outward appearance of her personal wealth and knew she had Lady Whistledown to thank but by God, the sales of her paper were higher than ever. She owed it to her family to assist them in these dark times and she would.

Transferring the funds to her father’s account was not anything she could possibly do but Mr. Sheffield would do it, on the pretense of Great Aunt Margaret’s estate now that she had passed away. It was not a perfect as it would almost certainly raise questions later but it was all she could do for now. But how to explain it without documentation?

The next move Penelope would make would be in a few days, her printer.

Penelope had some documents to forge.

* * *

_Dearest Eloise,_

_I hope you are not very offended by my declining your last two invitations to your home. I miss you terribly as well and greatly enjoyed my visit last week._

_Eloise, Mama is not well. I hesitate to describe too much here but though the physician and midwife have said my mother is indeed well and the swelling in her extremities is due to her more advanced age, I still cannot help but feel otherwise. Her head pains are not in the least normal, she cries out in pain for what seems like hours and has even taken laudanum to dull it. She is sickened from it. She cannot look directly at light and has other unexplained pains such as her abdomen near the ribs._

_I just so wish I could take her to Dr. Sparrow, I have heard he does wonders as a physician._

_Just as I have penned this I have changed my mind. Instead of meeting at your home will you meet me at the book shop tomorrow around midmorning? We can visit a few shops and perhaps I can purchase something nice for Mama to in the very least lift her spirits._

_Your friend,_

_Penelope_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cut the chapter in half because I didn't want to cram too much in it.
> 
> It’s important to me that you guys be aware that I read a couple fics here about the “unexpected inheritance” idea and while I do not not *not* want anyone to think I copied the idea…. In the timeframe of this fic and due to inequities between the genders back then (i.e- Penelope has boobs) it’s really the only safe way to go about things for Pen. 
> 
> Who caught the Portia/Atia of the Julii (Rome) reference? Atia was the best character in Rome (in my humble opinion) and she was played incomparably by Polly Walker aka Portia Featherington :) Heart eyes!!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of this story mapped out mentally but even so reviews are so very very appreciated.


End file.
